


Hothouse Flowers in Winter: Proper Care and Protection

by Mawgon



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Communication Failure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawgon/pseuds/Mawgon
Summary: When he becomes nohecharis, Cala has to move in with his new colleague Beshelar. And from then on, things spiral downward. Beshelar disapproves of everything Cala does, insists on not heating their shared room, and will quite probably kill Cala's pride and joy, a beautiful orchid, by glaring at it until it withers.





	

“His Serenity was right to reprimand you.”

Cala flinched. “What?!”

“It is not proper to talk of matters not relevant to your duty. What were you thinking?”

“It is relevant to our duty when His Serenity is grieving”, Cala replied stiffly. “Our duty is to protect the emperor’s mind as well as his body.” Not that he should have to justify himself. Was it not only natural to want to soothe someone’s pain by listening, emperor or not?

“And how was telling His Serenity that the mourners would feel his presence an unwelcome intrusion achieving this goal?”

Cala deeply regretted that, now. “We merely sought to phrase your wish that he extricate himself from this potentially dangerous situation in a way that would make sense to His Serenity.” His first assessment of His Serenity’s character might not be wholly accurate, but as of now, Cala was pretty sure that the new emperor was a kind man, perhaps too kind, and perhaps too trusting, who would be easier persuaded by the discomfort of others than by a minimal risk to his own safety. 

Of course, sometimes he was wrong. For example he had assumed that, under his grim countenance, Beshelar would be a decent person, and that demonstrating some willingness to work towards the things he thought important would facilitate cooperation with him. 

Clearly, that was not the case. Beshelar disappoved of Cala prioritizing His Serenity’s peace of mind – or serenity, bad pun that it was – as well as of Cala trying to help him with his priorities. 

An effort wasted. 

Cala turned away from his partner and busied himself with the only thing he owned beyond the barest necessities: the orchid. 

When he had initially acquired it, there had been some disapproving looks – it was valuable, after all, and its blossoms were beautiful. While its material worth was within what the rules allowed, some thought it frivolous and not in keeping with the spirit of his vow of poverty. 

Cala had deflected those criticisms by pointing out that it was a living thing and could not, really, belong to anyone. It was just temporarily staying with him. 

As it had, in the three years that he had owned it, never blossomed again, criticisms had ceased. With plain green leaves, it was no more beautiful than any other potted plant. 

Since its leaves were as green as ever and it seemed happy, Cala had never investigated into the reasons for this lack of blossoms. Perhaps it had understood that it was best to not draw attention. Or it was just not ready to bloom again. 

He had placed a bell jar over it, as some mazei had the annoying tendency to open windows for fresh air with no thought of the needs of others currently in the room, especially if those others could not voice an opinion. 

Now that they had to share a room with this grim, cold soldier, the bell jar would be needed even more. Cala rather wished he could place himself under one such glass cover, too. 

 

The next confrontation, Cala had to admit to having started. In a way. But what could one do when one returned to their shared room, thinking no evil, and found Beshelar putting out the cosy fire the servants had been attentive enough to start? 

“What do you think you are doing there?!”

Beshelar explained in a calm voice what Cala already knew. The implication of his words was that he, a hardened guardsman did not require such luxuries as warmth, and neither should Cala. 

“So you have no regard for our comfort, fine. And what about the orchid?”

“The what?”

“This”, Cala gestured towards the plant. “It is native to a much warmer country than this and cannot endure cold temperatures.” And neither can we, he would have liked to add, but he had little desire to look even weaker in front of his partner. “It will die.” And he hoped that this heartless man at least had some respect for other people’s property. Cala had found that some who thought nothing of hurting other people could be very particular about ownership – though mostly regarding the things they themselves owned, of course. 

“What about this glass cover? Is it not there for that very reason?”

“No. It keeps the moisture inside and, yes, protects against draught, but when the whole room is freezing, it will not provide nearly enough protection. There is no source of warmth inside it, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“We are sure the room will not cool down too much overnight.” 

Cala could only hope that would be the case. He did not get much sleep that night, half because he did feel a bit too cold, half because he was worried sick. 

The next couple of days, he did not see much of Beshelar. Whenever Cala was in their shared room, Beshelar was not there. 

 

He was almost lulled into a feeling of safety when one evening he returned to the room to find that there was no fire burning. And Beshelar was already asleep – or at least in bed. Better let sleeping lions lie. 

It was not very cold, Cala had to admit, but cool enough that he was uncomfortable after undressing. He quickly put on his nightgown and went to bed. 

Where it was gloriously warm. Some kind servant apparently had thought to put heated bricks into the beds. 

Every morning, he anxiously checked on the orchid, but it remained green and healthy. 

Instead of passing judgement on Cala’s actions, Beshelar did not talk to him at all anymore, which was, in a way, even more unsettling. 

Cala also did not try to initiate a conversation, but he could hardly be blamed for that, could he? Beshelar had never apologized, after all. And what to talk about, anyway? Beshelar was very obviously not interested in idle small talk, nor was he interested in anything Cala would like to talk about. Especially not botanics. 

There were times when Cala would have liked to talk to the orchid aloud, but he kept the conversation in his head. After all, he would not want his partner to consider him mad. 

Even if he increasingly felt like he was going mad. Most of his time off duty had to be spent sleeping, which meant he had to endure Beshelar’s company, however silent. If not for the short chats with Dazhis whenever they changed shifts while Beshelar guarded His Serenity’s bedroom, Cala could not have guaranteed his ongoing sanity. 

Of course, there also was His Serenity. Cala was extremely fond of the emperor. He might not be allowed to be friends with him, but no one would stop him from liking Edrehasivar VII. 

They could rarely talk without Beshelar’s disapproving gaze on them, but still. It was good to know that at least one of the two people he had to spend almost all his time with liked him. 

 

Dazhis’ betrayal shook him to his core. Had his friend not agreed with him every time he mentioned that he liked Edrehasivar, that it was a honour to protect such a kind and decent emperor?

Standing in front of His Serenity’s bedroom, Cala went through all the conversations he had ever had with Dazhis. And could not find true agreement. Just ... nods, smiles, gestures of listening. Then changing topics.

Had he not known Dazhis at all? How could he have been so wrong? 

And worst of all, even though he felt so betrayed, he wept for the friend he had lost, wept for an oathbreaker who would commit Revethvoran. 

He could barely compose himself when His Serenity suddenly entered the room and wanted to know what would happen to Dazhis. 

Of course he would want to know. And of course he would suffer a panic attack upon being told so. 

The only thing that surprised Cala was that Beshelar didn’t disapprove of his giving unsolicited advice to his emperor this time. 

Of course His Serenity would voice his concern, would not want Dazhis to die. 

And just as naturally, Beshelar would state that he thought Dazhis deserved no better. 

It was not like the main conspirators, those who would have profited from the scheme, had not broken their oaths. And it was not like Dazhis had known ... surely he could not have realized they would ‘dispose’ of His Serenity in a more final manner when all was said and done? If he had, then surely he would have also known that even those who profited from the betrayal did not like the traitor. 

Still, he had hurt the emperor with his betrayal, and this, Cala could not understand. He liked and admired His Serenity in a way that had nothing to do with his oath as nohecharis. Even without that oath, he would never do something like this. 

He said so, and of course, Beshelar had to ruin it all by stating the same thing, but in a way that made it sound like this was a most shameful truth that he would rather have kept to himself. 

As though Beshelar fully expected that any righteous person should jump at the opportunity to betray the emperor – or, more likely, this emperor. 

Cala could have punched him. The only reason he did not was that Beshelar had changed the topic to His Serenity’s need to go to bed, something with which Cala could not help but agree wholeheartedly, even when the suggestion came from such a hated source. 

 

When Beshelar objected to Kiru as nohecharo, and this after Cala had vouched for her, and while they both were close to falling asleep on their feet and worse, on duty, Cala was ready to strangle the man. 

The only thing that kept him from doing so was the knowledge that His Serenity would be so very upset about Beshelar’s death and Cala’s execution. 

And Kiru would be disappointed, she had often told him she liked his calm temper. 

Of which there was not much left by then. 

Sleep came as soon as Cala’s head touched his pillow. 

When he woke up, someone was standing next to his bed. Within seconds, Cala sat bolt upright in bed.

Only then did he notice it was only Beshelar. 

“Is something the matter? Are we due to go on duty right now?” He searched for his clock. 

“Not for another four hours. We were merely looking at your orchid.”

“Were you?” Cala frowned. If this was not just an excuse, then he was worried for the safety of the poor plant. It should not be physically possible for Beshelar to cause a plant to wither just by looking at it, but somehow, Cala would not put it past him. “As you seem so disinterested in its wellbeing, we do not see why you should want to look at it.”

“We are not disinterested in its wellbeing”, Beshelar protested. “The temperature in this room is perfectly adequate.” He indicated the thermometer he had hung at the wall shortly after their first disagreement – Cala suspected it was there so that Beshelar could point out exactly how warm the room was. 

“It seems to have grown”, Beshelar interrupted his thoughts. 

“Grown? In this adverse conditions? Hardly.” But Cala got up and looked through the bell jar. Indeed, there was a tiny little green shoot. “Oh. Interesting. Thank you for telling us.” Cala was aware that now it was he who sounded like this civility was pulled from him like a tooth from his jaw, and with about as much pain, but Beshelar could hardly expect more, could he? 

The tiny shoot grew larger by the day, and soon it became apparent that there were buds on it. 

Cala had been content to keep the plant without blossoms, and never tried to find out why it did not bloom, but now he found he just needed to know why it had changed its mind all of a sudden, and under such adverse conditions. 

After consulting several books, he found that some amount of cold actually triggered blossoming in this species. 

Who would have thought! Well, at least the orchid was happy sharing a room with Beshelar then. It was more than could be said of Cala. 

The days were getting colder, but inside the room it seemed warmer. And every evening, without fail, there would be a heated brick in Cala’s bed. 

He tried to catch the servant who placed it there again and again, without luck. Until one day, he went off duty a bit earlier than usual, as His Serenity had an audience scheduled during which change of shifts could not take place. Cala hurried ot get to the bedroom, and indeed, caught a servant entering it. 

When Cala entered, the young boy had just smoothed the covers on his bed again. Cala cleared his throat, trying to think of what he had wanted to say. 

The servant made to leave. 

“Beshelar doesn’t get a heated brick?” Damn, that sounded nasty!

Before he could amend his words, the servant boy spoke: “No, Athmaza.”

“Why not?” After Dazhis betrayal, he did not dare expect any kindness towards himself as the reason. 

The expression of the servant changed as he obviously tried to recall what he had been instructed to do: “The temperature in this room is perfectly adequate for a guardsman. However, due to the demands of their profession, mazei require higher temperatures to stay healthy. The necessary measures should be taken to ensure that Ca...” The boy blinked. “That is to say, we are to ensure you are not cold, Athmaza.”

Cala was thunderstruck. “We thank you”, he managed to say. 

‘Perfectly adequate’ – the exact phrasing Beshelar had used. All of it, the stilted way of expressing the fact that magic drained the body of heat ... it was Beshelar’s way of speaking. 

When Beshelar entered the room, Cala was still standing there, staring at the opposite wall, where a thermometre showed a temperature that was indeed perfectly survivable for the orchid, while slightly too cool for Cala. 

Beshelar walked around him. “Are you quite all right, Athmaza?”

Cala took his glasses off and carefully cleaned them with his robe, before saying: “You could just have apologized, you know?”


End file.
